Initiation
by Morgana Maeve
Summary: -Axel.Xemnas.Sort.of- -Mind.bending- Bronzed eyes give him the choice. Termination? Or perhaps the only salvation available to a Nobody?


Initiation

Morgana Maeve

8/1/08 – Axel/Xemnas. God help me. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Warning: Axel/Superior mind-bending. 'Nuff said.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters used here. They belong to Square Enix and Disney . (Maybe I own one, but not really.)

.:oOo:.

The World That Never Was is a white palace of nothingness, endless corridors stitched together with invisible seams, translucent thread just barely holding everything in strained cohesion. And above this world of paradox and oxymora reigns the nacreous heart of hearts, etched in blue against black emptiness, the collector of wayward essences screaming for escape.

Idly it hovers, bathing everything in its cold silver glow, flow of pink spiraling up to it, sucked into its hungry center. Lae watches this with icy eyes, color lost somewhere between green and blue, standing proud and erect, arm folded across bare chest, skin unnaturally unmarred. Around him, the air shimmers in wavelets of heat, making him seem like a desert mirage, ethereal and untouchable. Next to him, lying in charred bits on the floor, are the remnants of a borrowed coat, zippers melted into a metal mass of superheated globs.

"You have extraordinary power," states a deep voice behind him, and Lae whirls around in surprise. Bronzed eyes watch him from across the room. "But you must learn to control it if you are to be of any use." While he talks, the man makes ample use of his arms, waving them in intricate patterns, using them to color his speech and make it greater than what it truly is. Almost instantly, Lae develops an instant dislike for this grandiose being, but the dislike is a shadow of the intensity it could have been, and Lae feels it die within him, a reminder of changes so far.

So he challenges the man instead, wavering air around him growing more violent. "Use to what?" he asks, pinning the man with his stare.

"Why, to us, of course," the man answers, arms still accenting his every word. "It would be cruel of us to leave one of our brothers to the devices of a world that no longer wants him." He smiles, and it is a decidedly nasty smile.

"What if I don't want to be of use?" Lae challenges again, turning around fully to face the man and his strange orange eyes.

The smile stays fixed in place, and the man's eyes glint. "Then I will destroy you. If you are not use to us, you are not use to anything." The blood in Lae's veins has already run cold long before, sluggish and unmoving, nonexistent save for the phantom pulse at his temple, and so, the news doesn't stir any fear within him. In fact, nothing stirs. His body is a silent monolith of papery flesh and devoid emotions.

"Do you know what we are?" the man continues. "Do you know what you are?" Lae shakes his head, a minute gesture of negation that doesn't soften the hard angles of his body or the willful insolence of his stare. "Then let me lesson you. We are the people born of Nothing. We are Those Without Hearts, souls, flesh or blood. We are a different sort of person, a personification of the darkness that resides in every heart. We are the Remnants of humanity lost, the decadent depravity expelled from the garden and refused entrance into Oblivion. Kingdom Hearts no longer wants us. The world no longer sees us. We are forced to eke out our nonexistence in this world betwixt worlds."

The man steps closer, bridging the gap between them as Lae listens with unwanted interest. "You and I and all of us who inhabit this world are Nobodies. You are Nobody. You do not exist, even within the dim corners of minds you might have once known. They no longer exist and if they do, you have been wiped from their memories. There is no place for you out there any longer. Others will fear your power. They will try to exterminate you."

He is too close now, and the air sparkles in warning, little bursts of color popping in snappish noise. The man laughs and reaches with his hand into the sultry heat of Lae's aura.

Flames explode in hellish eruptions, pyres reaching up and singeing the pristine ceiling with black soot. But the attack does not last long, for these powers are new to Lae, and he cannot yet control them. Strength ebbs away from him in pulling draws, and the flames die away in muted sparks. Lae falls, crouched on hands and knees, drenching sweat blooming over tight skin, and there is the man's hand, still on his face, still stroking his cheek in a lover's caress.

"For every attack, a bit more of your Nonexistence will drain away." The bronze eyes are not kind beneath those silver bangs. Lae doesn't think they have ever been kind. "The bigger the attack, the more will you be drained until there is nothing left. Regardless of what you choose, you will, inevitably, cease to be. The choice is yours." The fingers tighten, leave purple bruises on white skin. "But where will you go?" the man ponders, his face a parody of deep thought. "There is no one out there to love you, Lae."

Lae's heart, or the hole it left behind, contracts painfully at the sound of his name issuing from those cruel lips. "There is no one left to comfort you, to love you, to care for you. No one, except for us." The fingers trace odd patterns across his mouth. "We are the only ones who will ever understand you, Lae. Don't you realize that? We are all that you have left. We are the only ones who could possibly understand you. Out there, in the world of Existence, they will persecute you, brand you with the stigma they reserve for outcasts such as yourself. Only we understand you, Lae. Only we love you. You know that, don't you, Lae?"

The words are like a spell, perverse and wrong, but there is truth in the speech, and Lae feels himself falling into the sentences, lost in a vortex of questions, questions, questions, with the only answers buried in half-truths and lies.

There is no way out of this palace save for a long jump down to the blackness of Heartless spawn. There is no salvation in this nightmare parody of life. There is nothing except this man and his offer.

But there are two sides to every coin, and what was once will now be again. Crafty and cunning, slippery and slick, Lae is a conman to his last breath, and in this new nonlife, in this new nonexistence, Lae will hold true to what he was.

"I will join you," he says. Not 'I will serve you.' Not 'I will help you.' 'Join' is a tricky word; it has so many connotations, but the man does not seem to notice Lae's hesitancy to profess his undying devotion.

"As you should," the man answers, pulling Lae up by his chin. Their faces are too close for politeness, but with this man, everything is 'too' something. "As of now, I am your Superior. You will refer to me as the Superior."

"Yes, Superior." There is mock deep within Lae's tone, but the Superior ignores it. "And is that your name, Superior?"

The Superior's eyes harden, and for a second, Lae thinks he may have pushed too far. "My name is Xemnas," he finally answers. "Xemnas," he says again, as if tasting it. "You will need a name as well." When Lae starts, Xemnas smiles again, that horrible upturning of his mouth, that hard, hard smile and says, "Lae does not exist as of the moment you chose us. Take a new name. You ought know what you ought do, Flurry of Dancing Flames."

And amazingly, he does. The knowledge comes to him in a small burst of clarity, and he nods, backing out of the room. Xemnas watches with his burnished eyes, and he smirks to himself, crossing his arms in a mirror of Lae, staring up at the true Queen of Hearts.

"He will be a useful member," he tells her. "Treachery is a blink of an eye to him. Perhaps he'll betray me in the end. But before that, I will use him to his full potential."

And two hours later, accompanied by the seven other members of the Organization, Lae stands before the Superior again, eyes of green-blue glass like shattered ocean, dark marks beneath them in stark contrast to his pallid skin, spiky red hair falling down his back, heavy black coat draped recklessly over his shoulders.

"My name," he says, "is Axel."

.:oOo:.

Lae equals, in terms of pronunciation, 'Lay.' Feel free to make jokes.

This is such a total rush-job. I'm in the bookstore trying to type, edit, and upload this stupid thing as fast I can. Please excuse all bad grammar and typos. Maybe one day I'll fix it. (Probably not.)

Read and review, please!


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